explain,’ urged the Major. ‘Mrs Wilkinson has proved herself a winner and is now worth at least fifty thousand. Therefore if Bolton buys in at 20 per cent, he would have to hand over ten thousand, which would mean a grand for each shareholder.’ Everyone brightened. ‘The moment he buys in, I’ll be able to issue you with a cheque and we’d be saving Marius.’
‘Can’t think why,’ sniffed Debbie, ‘he’s so rude.’ Etta was now the only dissenting voice.
‘My dear,’ urged the Major, ‘Bolton truly won’t buy Furious unless we let him into our syndicate. He wants the social standing. We owe it to Marius.’
‘And Rafiq too,’ said Painswick. ‘The poor boy’s been crying his heart out, according to Tommy, ever since Michelle gleefully reported how many trainers were after Furious.’
‘I don’t like Bolton, and I think we should check with Valent who’s only just joined,’ said Etta. ‘He might not like Bolton slobbering all over Bonny.’
‘He’s too small to slobber over anyone,’ said Alan.
‘I talked to Bonny,’ said Seth idly. ‘I called Valent at home but he’s still in China buying some electronic toy factory. Bonny didn’t seem too concerned about Lester Bolton. She thinks the syndicate’s a broad church. Anyway, Etta darling, Alan and I and Valent can handle tossers like Bolton. And it is the answer.’
‘I don’t trust him.’ Etta was fighting back the tears when Seth put an arm round her shoulder, leading her to the fire at the other end of the bar. He sat her down on the fender and, clicking his fingers to Chris, bought her another glass of white.
‘Darling,’ he gently stroked her hair and then the back of her neck, ‘it’s the only answer. The Major’s pushed Bolton up to a hundred thousand for Furious and ten thousand to buy into the syndicate, which’ll be a few bob for you and me.
‘More importantly, angel – look at me, Etta,’ he forced her chin up with his other hand, giving her the benefit of his Holby City sincerity smoulder, ‘Marius is about to go under. Poor Joyce Painswick paid the wages out of her own pocket last week.’ Then, at Etta’s look of horror: ‘Rafiq will lose his job and is unlikely to get another, and so will Tommy, and Mrs Wilkinson, the Beau Regard of Willowwood, will be without a trainer. She’ll have to go somewhere else and you won’t be able to see her all the time, and that will break your heart, darling. And haven’t we had fun in the syndicate so far, and we’ll have more fun as Wilkie beats everything in sight, and Bolton and Cindy, who I’ve yet to meet, will provide us with so many laughs. If Bolton wants to throw an arse-warming party for all the syndicate and you and I can romp in the giant jacuzzi while sperm whale Debbie frolicks naked in the sunken pool …’
Then, as Etta started to laugh: ‘Please, darling, Bonny’s given the OK. We’ve got a majority vote, people are only not endorsing it out of respect for you. They love you, and they want you on our side.’ For a moment he was serious, then he laughed. ‘Goodness, that soliloquy, silly-quoy, was longer than “Friends, Romans, countrymen”. Please, darling.’
A log crashed out of the fire, making them jump, and as Seth brushed the sparks off her old tweed skirt Etta melted in both senses of the word.
‘Of course it’s OK,’ she stammered. ‘Thank you so much for putting things into perspective. Poor Joyce must be reimbursed.’ At that moment Priceless wandered up, snaking his head along Etta’s thigh until she rubbed his ears. ‘Such a darling dog.’
‘I wanted to ask you a great favour. A week’s filming has come up, a motoring commercial, marvellous money – only problem is it’s abroad. Since Priceless adores you so much, could you possibly look after him for me?’
‘Yes, of course.’ ‘Etta could deny him nothing, but quailed at the rumpus it would cause. She leapt to her feet. ‘I must go. I’ve got to make supper for Martin and Romy, they’re due back from skiing.’
‘Not until you’ve finished that drink.’
He clapped his hands.
‘Darling Etta has agreed that Lester and Cindy can join the syndicate.’
Everyone looked pleased.
‘But we’ve all got to promise not to let them change its character.’
At that moment the door opened, letting in a blast of icy air, and in swept Romy and Martin, radiant and conker-brown from the Alps.
‘We thought we’d find you here, Mother,’ said Martin,